


Pumpkin pie and Honey Bee

by Hectatess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-26 17:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12562272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: Dean bakes a pumpkin pie for his family. Thing is, it's sitting out on the counter, all warm and inviting, and Sam, Mary, and Cas aren't going to be back for another hour....Written for the Supernatural Halloween Fic Exchange Extravaganza.Request by flew_here_on_a_bus.Hope you like it, hon!Now extra chapter. I just don’t know when to quit.





	1. Chapter 1

Pulling off his oven mitts, Dean grinned. The spicy, delicious smell of pumpkin pie had been teasing his nostrils for over half an hour, and now she stood there. All warm, steaming actually, and golden brown. He turned away from the temptation and checked his phone. Nothing yet. He groaned and turned on the radio. If Sammy, Mom and Cas didn’t show up soon, he would cave. Lucky for him, the pie was still piping hot, and he would get nasty burns if he even tried to drag a finger across it. He sighed. Next step then... He pulled open the fridge door and grabbed the carton of heavy cream. Next the vanilla and the icing sugar... Humming to himself, Dean picked up the handheld mixer and clicked the whisks in place.

Half an hour later, he pulled the bowl of settled whipped cream out of the fridge and scooped it into the piping bag, ready to make pretty rosettes on the pumpkin pie. He wiped his brow and winced. Crap. Now his forehead was sticky. He licked his hand and smiled. That tasted nice. It would surely complement the pumpkin and spices. His phone buzzed and he yanked it out.

**Received at 15.27 from: Sam**  
**Finally done here. On our way back. Traffic should be ok. See you in about an hour.**

Dean hung his head. “Fuck...” Of course it would take them so long. He glanced over at the counter. The pie still stood there, pristine, smelling like Heaven in a pan. It was tempting him, taunting him. He licked his lips. If he just.... he could use the cream to... Yeah, who would notice, right? Almost without consciously making the decission to move, he walked over to the counter and stared at the pie. His hand dipped in, ever so careful, and it came back up, scooping the sweet, spicy filling. His fingers were covered up to the second joint and he let it slide down to his palm, mesmerised by the movement. He breathed in deeply, savouring the scent. Then, he tentatively lapped at his hand and moaned.

“Mmmh! Oh God... so good.” He licked his lips and dove right back in, licking his hand spotless, even darting his tongue between his fingers to catch stray filling. As soon as he realised what he had done, a blush crept up his cheeks. “Mom was right. I am a glutton.” he mumbled to himself, turning away from the pie. He washed his hands, trying to wash away the feeling of shame as well. His phone buzzed again, and he took it out, after drying his hands. Good. A distraction was just what he needed.

**Received at 15.33 from: Cas**  
**I am sorry we took so long. But you might feel better if I told you we ran into Garth. The BMOL did not get him. He and his mate are doing fine. I hope you are keeping yourself occupied. Cas**

Dean swallowed hard. “Damnit Cas. Why did you have to use a word containing ‘pie’?” His glance wandered off towards the counter again. The aftertaste of the pie still lingered a bit, and he bit his lower lip. Straightening his shoulders, he decidedly picked up the piping bag and prepared to fill the hole his fingers had dug. It was a bit uneven, and the rosette he would make wouldn’t be nice. That would be a shame. He used his index to swipe around the hole and make it more circular, licking off the excess filling. The taste had him close his eyes. “Damn, I’m good at baking. Eat your heart out, Martha Steward.” He eyed the pie. Still uneven, wasn’t it? He ran his finger along the sides again, popping it in his mouth, if the blob of filling threatened to get too big. Satisfied, he picked up the piping bag and started filling the hole. Suddenly, he stopped, pouting in thought.

“What if I made the cream too sweet? Couldn’t have that, could we?” he argued with himself. “Nope. That would not do at all. I should sample.” He used his hand again, this time scooping up filling and whipped cream in one go. Like a chimp, he just dropped it right into his mouth, and slowly swallowed it down, enjoying the taste. “Hm. Hmhm. Maybe just a bit more, just to be sure.” He dipped his hand back in, filling it to the brim with sticky, gooey sweetness. “Hm. ‘S g’d... ‘s v’rry g’d.” he mumbled around his mouthfull. He licked his hand clean, only to drop it in the pie right away.

While he cleaned off his hand from the last filling and cream, he realised something. "I never sampled the whole thing. I keep forgetting to get some of the crust. If I overworked that, it will be tough and unedible.” Humming along to Tom Petty’s ‘Honey Bee’, he picked up a wicked looking kitchen knife and cut himself a generous slice of pie, even if only half of it was covered in filling. Not wanting to be a total barbarian, he grabbed a plate and a fork. As an afterthought, he piped a perfect rosette of whipped cream next to the pie. He mixed cream and piefilling with his fork and cut off a bit of crust too. He happily hummed around it, once he had put the bite into his mouth.

“Crust’s ok, I think.” He looked down to the plate and found it empty. The piping bag lay to the side, crumpled up like a dried-out slug, tip slowly dripping cream into a puddle on the counter. “Hm.. oh well. The pie tastes great without cream too.” He burped gently and sat down on a chair. “Oooohhh.” he groaned as he popped the button of his jeans. “I think I might have eaten too much.” He dropped his head on his arms and hummed. “Yeah... That was gooood pie...”

**********

Dropping his bag on the table with the world map, Sam sighed. That was one exhausting hunt. Mary groaned as she flopped on a chair. “Let’s never leave Dean here again. He is damn useful on hunts.”

Sam hummed. “I know. Why ever did we think this would go ok without him?”  
Cas tilted his head. “Because we had most of the research done, including the location of the bones. And because Dean was in the middle of baking a pie.” He sniffed. “Which I do not smell. Why would I not smell pie, if Dean was baking?”

Sam’s head shot up, alarmed. “He didn’t... no... he wouldn’t...” Repeating that phrase, Sam stalked out of the room and towards the kitchen, Cas and Mary hot on his trail. They saw his back disappear around the corner and heard his shout. “Dean! You.... oh my God!”

Not sure if Sam sounded disgusted or scared, Cas and Mary picked up the pace and rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Oh my God...” Mary gasped. Cas widened his blue eyes comically as he took in the kitchen. Patches of flour decorated every surface, including the tap. Smears of brownish-orange were concentrated on the counter, but also on the knobs of the tap, and over a large kitchen knife and a plate and fork. A small puddle of what looked like cream had formed around the wrung-out form of a piping bag. Crumbs of the brownish-orange and golden brown were littered in a pie pan. Uncertain, he turned to where Sam stood, hands in his sides, thunder brewing on his face. “Sam?” he asked softly. “What happened here? Was there a fight?” Sam hummed. “No.” he answered.

Cas followed Sam’s bitchface and bit his lip. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, fast asleep. Gently snoring, head on his arms and his face completely covered with sticky smears of the brownish-orange and what looked like drying whipped cream. Golden brown crumbs stuck around the corners of his smiling mouth. Sam sighed, a smile tugging up his mouth. “Looks like Dean decided to sample the pie...”

Mary snorted with laughter. “Dean and his pie... so he’s ok... just a foodcoma.”  
Sam sniggered too. “On the nose, mom...” he supplied.  
Cas frowned. “Sample the pie? But there is no pie...”  
That made Sam laugh. “Not anymore... once Dean starts sampling...”  
Realisation dawned on Cas’ face. “Oh... oh dear.” He stepped up to the slumbering, pie smeared man and placed two fingers to his forehead. “It would seem he suffers no ill effects of eating a whole pie. Amazing.”  
“He has a castiron stomach, Cas.”  
Cas tilted his head, fingers still in place. “No he doesn’t. His stomach is made of the same materials as any other human’s.”  
Mary shook her head, smiling. “Just an expression, Cas. Means his stomach doesn’t get upset easily.”

“Oh...” He pulled his fingers away with a disgusted wince. “EW. Dean...you are all sticky. I suggest you go take a shower.”  
Dean hummed softly and mumbled: “gimme some sugar... little Honey Bee...” Cas stared at Sam, alarmed.  
Sam just chuckled. “Guess he heard Tom Petty somewhere along the line... Cas, can you clean him up, and get him to bed?”  
Cas nodded and picked up his sticky friend, who snuggled down in his arms, mumbling “don’t tell your boyfriend, little Honey Bee.”

***********

Dean opened his eyes and groaned as he stretched. When he realised he was in his room, he bolted upright.  
“Hello, Dean. How are you feeling?”  
His head snapped around to find Cas, sitting in the chair at the foot of his bed, ankle resting on his other knee, a book in his hands.  
“Er... I... I’m eh... I’m ok. Actually, I feel fine.”  
Cas nodded, humming assent. “Good. I just wanted to make sure that your digestion was ok with consuming a whole pumpkin pie in one sitting.”  
Dean smirked. “Takes more than a pie to make me feel weird, Cas.”  
Cas actually smiled at that. “I gather.” He got up and just before leaving the room, he turned towards Dean. “Too bad you stopped calling me little Honey Bee.” he said with a mischeivous smirk and walked out, leaving Dean gaping at the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t leave this alone... This kept haunting me. Dean would have an internal meltdown about those parting words, wouldn’t he?  
> And I would love to see him squirm more. I’m evil, I know... plus, I think Destiel was something that the asking party liked. Well, so do I. Here we go.

After being teased relentlessly by both his mother and Sam, about ‘sampling’ away a whole pie. Dean promised to bake a new one for Thanksgiving. While he was working on the dough for the crust, Cas’ parting remark kept buzzing through his head. “Too bad you stopped calling me little Honey Bee.” Had he been calling Cas that? And why would Cas think it too bad that he’d stopped?

“Hello, Dean.”  
Dean jumped a bit. “Geez Cas! Don’t do that!” he bit out, harsher than he wanted to. Turning around, he found himself almost nose to nose with his friend. Using every ounce of his willpower, Dean fought his rising blush back down. “You need something, Cas?”  
Cas tilted his head a little. “I thought it would be nice to keep you company. And I am interested in seeing how a pie is made. The saying goes ‘easy as pie’ but I feel there is more to it.”  
Relaxing, Dean smirked. “You’re right, bud. Overwork the dough, and the crust is just gross.” His hands knead the dough fast and supple. “Sit down, I’ll show you.”

After putting the dough to settle in the fridge, Dean pulled out the stuff for the filling.  
“Do you need that many spices? Really? I thought pumpkinpie was sweet.” Cas wondered.  
Mixing eggs, cream and pumpkin in a bowl, Dean smiled, a bit of pride rising. “Pumpkin itself... that doesn’t taste of much.” He poured the sugar into the mix and resumed whisking. “So we spice it up, and with the sugar I just added, it’s gonna be amazing!”

Stil, Cas didn’t seem satisfied. “But so many different spices... isn’t it too much?”  
Carefully meassuring out his cinnamon on a teaspoon, Dean answered.  
“Nope. A lot of people just use pumpkin spice, but I like doing it oldschool. That way I can control the taste better. I use 1.5 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 1 teaspoon ground cloves, 1 teaspoon ground allspice and 1/2 teaspoon of ground ginger. Now if you don’t like any of these, or you’re allergic like dad, you can leave it out.”

Mary entered the room just as he said that. “Aw. You remember that?”  
Dean smiled warmly. “Yeah. You said Gran Winchester used to make two pumpkin pies. One regular, and one without allspice, because Dad got an upset stomach from it.”

“Huh.” came Sam, who’d followed their mom in. “So that’s why he never ate pumpkin pie. Go figure. I always thought he just hated pumpkin pie.” Grabbing a beer, he looked at Mary. “Want one?” Mary smiled. “Yeah. I’d love one.” She turned to her eldest. “Sam is going to introduce me to Game of Thrones.”  
Surprised, Dean stopped mixing. “Not watching the game?”  
Mary scoffed. “No. I hate football.”  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Have fun, I’m not done here yet.”  
Sam nodded. “Cas, you coming?”

Cas crinkled his his nose. “No thank you. Metratron shared the whole bookseries with me. I try not to remember any of it.”  
Dean chuckled. “Not your thing, huh? That’s fine. I don’t mind you sitting there. I like sharing my knowledge with you.”  
Cas smiled at that, while Sam and Mary chuckled.  
“Then I will stay and learn, Dean.”

Dean actually enjoyed Cas sitting at the table, whilst he was working at his pie. The Honey Bee remark was still nagging at him, though. He put the finished pie in the oven and set the timer, before turning around to Cas. “So, GoT a bit too much for you?” he asked, smiling.  
Cas nodded once. “Yes. I see enough human pain and suffering in real life to not need it on tv or in a book.”  
Humming, Dean grabbed a beer and held it out to him. “Want one?” With a nod, Cas took it, while Dean grabbed another for himself. “I can see how you would say that, yeah...” he said, sitting down next to his friend.

After a few more beers, Dean finally breached the subject. “Cas... I’ve been meaning to ask...” His voice failed as those deep blue eyes turned to him.  
“What was that, Dean?” Cas’ intense stare softened.  
Damn his tendency to blush! “Wh...why did you say I called you little Honey Bee?” He dropped his gaze and bit his lip.  
A hand slipped over his. “Because that is what you called me when I put you in bed. You started right here.” A long, slender index tapped the tabletop. “You fell asleep after you ate the pie. I think your mother called it a ‘foodcoma’. When I checked on you, to see if you were allright, you mumbled: ‘gimme some sugar... little Honey Bee...’ which, according to Sam, was nothing to be alarmed about. When I picked you up to bring you to bed, you said: ‘don’t tell your boyfriend, little Honey Bee.’”

Dean’s cheeks were burning, but he tried to wave it off. “That’s just from...” he started, but Cas wasn’t done yet.  
“Sam told me. From a song by mr. Tom Petty. So of course I listened to it. No where does he sing what you said when I had tucked you in.”  
Heart thumping like a drum, Dean looked up, only to get caught on that deep blue stare. “Wh... what did I say?” He didn’t want to know, but he had to, otherwise he’d drive himself crazy wondering.

Cas hummed. “If memory serves me, it was: ‘don’t go, Honey Bee... I need you. Please stay.’ So, I stayed.”  
So simple. He stated it as if it was normal, but Dean’s intestines knotted, his heart raced and his cheeks flamed. “So... you stayed... Jus...just like that?”  
Cas’ smile was warm, loving. “Of course. You asked. I couldn’t leave if you needed me.”  
The sincerity had Dean sway on the spot. “I... I always need you, Cas.” he stuttered.  
Cas still had Dean’s hand in his own, a warm pressure, anchoring him to the table. “Then I will be here, Dean.”

“Cas?” Dean barely heard his own question, but he wasn’t sure if it was because it was asked so softly, or because his heart was drumming in his own ears.  
“Yes, Dean?” Oh good. Not too soft then. Dean clenched his free hand into a fist.  
“Did... do.. UGH.” He ran his hand through his sandy hair. “Do you really think it too bad I stopped saying it?” It came out in a rush, and left Dean a bit winded. He peeked up at his friend.  
“Yes.” came the simple answer.  
“Why?” Dean rasped, his vocal chords on the verge of strike.

“Because I loved to hear it. It was a term of endearment you never used on anybody else. That made it extra special.” Damn those honest, blue eyes. Dean kept staring at them.  
Cas gave him that soulsearching stare, pinning him. “It made me feel loved.”  
Dean knew his cheeks were burning, but he couldn’t look away, and he couldn’t stop what he said next, even if it meant causing another Apocalypse. This one very private.  
“But I do.... Don’t you ever believe you are unloved, Cas. You... you are a part of me.... Honey Bee. Don’t ever go.” The last bit came out on a breath, so soft, but Cas leant in and kissed him softly on his lips.  
“I have every intention to stay, Dean.” Bringing his mouth right next to Dean’s ear, he whispered. “Because I love you too.”


End file.
